


Ginger Snaps

by Lynn1998



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn1998/pseuds/Lynn1998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wirt has been experiencing strange dreams when a new red head shows up in town. People don't typically like being made fun of for having bright orange hair, so they usually dye it. But for some reason she just won't. His step dad told him to be friends with her, but he could barely handle her. There was no way he would ever be more than friends.  Besides, he had a crush on Sara…right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just a dream

    _The warm summer air whispered against Wirt's cheeks as he gazed out to the receding sunset. The orange and purple hue's bled into each other and into the deep blue of night as he sighed. He lifted his head and closed his eyes, absorbing the soft croaks of frogs and gentle notes of the peaceful water. As he opened his eyes again he glanced down to the blue bird at his side. Her feathers nearly melted together, yet she was the most solid thing he's set his eyes upon. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't say a word when she turned his attention to him._

_"Wirt?" Asked the bird. He tried to think of what to say. He was certain he knew her name. It was right on the tip of his tongue, yet the word refused to come back._

_"Wirt? Wirt?" The bird continued._

_"Um…hmm," he hummed in response. What was even going on? How could this blue bird talk?_

_"Wake up, Wirt! Wirt?" She squawked._

_"W-wake up? What are you talking about? Am I…where am I?" He spoke to himself._

_"Wake up! Wake up! Wirt, wake up!"_

 

"Ah!" Wirt snapped his eyes open, clutching his pillow as Gregory jumped on his bed.

"Wirt! Wirt! Wake up!" The child sang as he jumped up and down.

"I'm up, I'm up! Stop jumping," Wirt groaned as he pulled the covers over his head.

"It doesn't look like you're up. Open up those eyeballs, Wirt," Greg said as he pounded on his older brother. Wirt grunted at the weight of his younger brother. He tried to push him off while Greg pulled back the blanket and tried to pry his eyes open.

"C'mon brother, it's almost noon," he informed him. Wirt knitted his brows and looked up at Greg. That couldn't be right…

"Noon? How long did I sleep?" He asked groggily.

"I'd say a good 8 hours. Jason Funderburker was upset about you being a lazy brother, and also because you kept him up late at night laughing with Sara."

"Oh, sorry about that," he mumbled as he sat up. That's right, he stayed up late listening to tapes with Sara last night. Good thing it wasn't a school night.

"Don't say sorry to me. Say sorry to Jason Funderburker. He's the one who was upset for some reason," Greg replied and hopped off Wirt's bed.

"Yeah…okay then. I'll make sure to do that. Did mom let you keep him?" He asked as he ran his hand through his bed head.

"Oh yeah. She thought he was cute, but I told her he likes to be called handsome." Wirt smiled down at his little brother, ruffling his hair and yawning.

"Cool. Hey, how's your head?" Wirt asked. "That kettle was pretty heavy, and you kept it on all night."

"Don't worry, Wirt. My head is all fine and dandy," Greg assured him.

"Good, I don't want you getting a headache," Wirt said as he stood up and stretched.

"What's a headache?" Greg asked.

"Uh, it's when your head hurts a lot."

"How do they work?"

"Well, you see, when you think too much, or don't get enough sleep, your brain swells. And what happens is the brain tissue presses against your skull and it starts to hurt under the pressure," Wirt explained as he walked with his brother out of his room and downstairs.

"I have tissues in my brain?"

"No, not the tissues you're thinking of-"

"So, I could blow my nose on my brain? Maybe that's why you talk a lot of snot, you blew your nose on your brain too many times," Greg rambled. The older brother sighed and opened the cabinet to grab a cereal bowl.

"No, Greg, that's not what I meant-"

"Does that mean when people get brain cancer and stuff they get too much snot in their head?" The child asked. Wirt hesitated, his hand hovering over his cereal box as he thought about Greg's words. Cancer…was a touchy subject.

"No. That's not what happens."

"Then what does happen?" Greg was too curious. The older brother brought his bowl and cereal to the counter in front of Greg who sat on a stool.

"You see…in life there are little things everywhere. Sometimes they're nice and help us stay healthy and happy, but sometimes they're mean…"

"Mean? Like a bully?" Wirt nodded.

"Yeah. Exactly. These things, are really small. You can't even see them, but they're there, and if the bad ones stay inside you for too long you could get sick. The same goes for cancer. Some people get too many bullies in their body and…get really really sick," Wirt finished. He poured his cereal and went to the fridge for the milk.

"Why don't they just stand up to the bullies?" Greg asked.

"It's…not always that simple."

"Why not?"

"These bullies are really tough. People need doctors to help them fight off the bullies, and sometimes not even the doctors can do it."

"Wow, those are some strong bullies. If a doctor can't do it, no one can. Did I tell you about the time the doctor cured my heart disease?"

"Greg, you didn't have heart disease. You had heartburn," Wirt informed him. The child shrugged.

"Eh, potato tomato," he replied. Wirt chuckled and poured his milk before setting it back and getting his spoon.

"Whatever dude, just don't wear kettles as hats for too long," he smiled and took a bite of his cereal. Greg nodded.

"Hey, Wirt. I was listening to mom and dad talkin' earlier and dad was talkin' about a 'ginger'."

"Really?" Wirt was surprised. There weren't many gingers in town, and the ones that did live here usually dyed their hair.

"Yeah, but I dunno what a ginger is, so I figured they were talking about cookies. Can we go get ginger snaps today?"

"Maybe. What did they say about the ginger?"

"Dad was all like 'I hope that new ginger prancing around town gets it changed soon, or else she's gonna get a bad deal in this town,' and I didn't really know what he was talking about, so I just watered Peter again."

"Peter? I thought you settled on Jason Funderburker."

"I did, but Peter didn't like it, so I changed it again."

"Oh, okay."

"So, what about them ginger snaps?" Greg questioned, leaning over the counter and eager to hear Wirt's response.

"I dunno, Greg. The store is a bit of a walk for you, and I'm not sure I have enough money."

"Aw, can't you drive?"

"No, I only have my permit, so I can't take you unless mom or dad comes with us," he explained.

"But-" Greg was interrupted as the home phone rang. An unknown number blinked on the tiny screen as Wirt looked at it skeptically. They didn't get many phone calls from unknown number, and his mom always told him not to answer to numbers he didn't recognize. Yet, he still reached for it and picked it up.

"Do you know that number?" Greg asked. Wirt shook his head and held his index finger to his lips to silence him.

"Uh, hello?" He spoke into the phone.

"Wirt?" Said a familiar voice on the other end.

"Who's this?" He asked.

"It's Sara. You gave me your home phone number last night, so…yeah," Sara replied. Wirt laughed nervously.

"I-I didn't think you'd actually call," he stuttered.

"Well, I had fun last night with you listening to poetry and stuff, and I was wondering if you'd like to do it again sometime," she proposed.

"Really! I-I mean…y-you'd wanna do that again?"

"Yeah. I actually really like poetry," she confessed.

"But, if you don't want to-"

"No! Wait, I-I mean…no, I don't know what I mean," Wirt groaned and slapped his palm over his face. "What I'm trying to say is: I'd love to."

"Great! I'm free this coming Saturday," she told him.

"M-me too, so you're coming over again?" He asked anxiously, pulling at the collar of his sweater to cool him down.

"Sure!"

"Alright. See you Saturday."

"Okay, bye Wirt."

"Bye…Sara." The teenager sighed as he clicked the phone off and dug his fingers through his messy brown hair. "Gosh, I'm so stupid," he grumbled to himself.

"Was that Sara? Are you gonna see her again?" Greg asked.

"Yeah…I'm gonna see her on Saturday," he replied.

"That's cool! Are you guys gonna listen to more poetry and clarinet music?"

"Maybe…I don't know, I might cancel," Wirt mumbled.

"What! Why?"

"Because I'll make a fool of myself or something," he said miserably.

"No you won't, you only do that on accident all the time."

"Thanks, Greg. That's really reassuring," Wirt snarked.

"No problem. Now can we ask dad about those ginger snaps now?" He begged. Wirt sighed and dumped the leftover milk from his bowl in to the sink.

"Yeah, sure."


	2. Be kind

 Wirt gripped the steering wheel of his stepdad's old pickup. His palms sweat and he swallowed hard. If he was being completely honest he had no desire to drive, and would appreciate a less…dangerous car to practice in. It had been a good five or six minutes since the two boys and their shared father had buckled up. David was usually a patient man. He had dark curly brown hair and his usual frumpy sweater and faded jeans. His breath smelled like coffee, and there was a faint 5 o'clock shadow on his cheeks. Wirt took a deep breath, staring straight ahead through the windshield at the neighbors house. David cleared his throat.

"You can…you can shift it in to first gear," he said, his voice only slightly deeper than Wirt's.

"R-right, sorry," he muttered in response and reached for the clutch.

"It's okay. Take your time," he assured the anxious teen.

"Right…take my time," Wirt whispered to himself. He slowly pressed on the gas, pushing the car out of the driveway and out in to the street.

"Uh…left or right?" He asked. His voice cracking slightly.

"Right," David instructed. Wirt nodded and nudged the wheel slowly to the right. The boy held his breath while he turned down the road and pushed the peddle slightly harder.

"W-whats the speed limit?" He inquired.

"25. Don't worry, you're doing fine," David soothed. Wirt clutched the steering wheel for dear life, growing more terrified and anxious the faster he went. He was only at 10 miles per hour and he felt like he was about to faint.

"I-I dunno about this. Maybe you should take over," he said nervously.

"You're doing fine, just go a bit faster and ease up on the wheel. Relax and lean back."

Wirt obliged and nodded, taking deep breaths as he slowly pushed more on the pedal until he reached 20 mph. As he continued at a steady speed and his deep breaths, he calmed down and loosened his tight grip on the wheel. Wirt kept his eyes on the road while Greg sang little songs about ginger snaps and a frog named Peter. The purr of the engine was like a kitten, and was strangely mollifying to the young teen. It was barely sprinkling. Hopefully it would stay light until they got to the store and David could take over. He wasn't quite used to driving in the rain, and even this was still a bit nerve racking. It was a good five minutes before they got to the first intersection and Wirt stopped at the red light. He let out a sigh and let go of the wheel. The teenager felt thankful for the bright light staring in to him when something else caught his eye.

Orange.

Orange hair tied messily up in a bun with blue scalloped ribbon around it. The bangs curled jaggedly across her pale forehead and her face was a constellation of freckles. Her bored crystal eyes stared jadedly at the crosswalk light until it changed and she walked. A bulky leather jacket sheltered her frame, and baggy jeans covered her long legs. Her thick boots matched her jacket with grey socks peaking just above the laces. She walked as if she had better, more important, things to do than waste her time walking across the damn street. It was a strange sight for Wirt to see. Most gingers dye their hair so they wouldn't call too much attention to themselves, but this girl was like a giant red light in the middle of the intersection. As she past David's pick up, Wirt could clearly see the wisps of ginger hair desperately trying to stay attached to her nape. The way she looked, the way she walked seemed…familiar.

"You see that girl, Wirt?" David spoke. Wirt whirled his head back to his step father.

"The ginger?" He replied.

"Don't call her that. It's rude."

"Sorry. The red head?" David nodded.

"Yeah, what about her?" Wirt asked.

"I want you to be nice to her," David told him.

"Uh…okay," Wirt was slightly confused to why his step dad would think he'd be rude to her… David sighed.

"What I mean is, don't just ignore her because everyone will try to avoid her or poke fun at her," he explained.

"Oh, okay. I guess I could do that."

"Why are people gonna be mean to her?" Greg piped up from the back. David looked back at his son as the light turned green. Wirt continued to drive while David explained.

"You see, Greg, when people are different they're special. You know that, right?" He asked. Greg nodded.

"Well, some people don't like it when others are special. Do you know why?"

"Because they aren't as special as them," Greg answered.

"Exactly. That girl has bright hair. It's natural and pretty, right?" Again, Greg nodded.

"Some people will think it's odd and try to put her down. Some people will ignore what's happening so they won't be put down too, and then there's nice people who want to be friends with these different people knowing they could be put down too."

"Like Wirt?" Greg asked excitedly. David smiled.

"Yes, exactly like Wirt," he said as he patted his older son's shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Wirt stared down at his red pointy hat in his hands. The stiff fabric had faded and frayed where he cut off the fluff. His fingers memorized the feeling of the felt when he heard a noise. A twig snapped and he looked up. Confusion speed across the boys expression.

"Why…why am I in the woods?" He spoke aloud. Leaves were falling from the trees. Their once rich green pigment was dried out to a brown and orange rust gathering at his feet. The sky was grey, and the trees were dull. He sighed and returned the red cap over his messy hair as he watched the leaves pass his ankles.

"Is this another dream?" He asked himself. "W-wait, that doesn't make any sense, if I know it's a dream is it really a dream? Or maybe it really is a dream since I'm aware it is or…this is confusing."

"And who's fault is that?" Wirt looked up to a nearby branch and spotted a blue bird perched on a twig.

"Did…no way. Birds don't talk," he mumbled to himself. The bird rolled it's eyes.

"Oh please, Wirt, anything can happen in a dream," the bird scoffed.

"H-how do you know my name?" He stuttered. How could he stutter in a dream.

"We know each other, remember?" The bird chirped.

"What? What are you talking about? Why are you even here? Who are you?" He questioned. The bird frowned, looking a bit hurt.

"Wow…you really don't remember me…" Wirt suddenly felt bad for the blue bird, her feathers ruffling solemnly.

"I…I'm sorry…" he said.

"Wirt," the bird sighed. The young teen suddenly felt a branch wrap it's way around his ankle. He looked down at the twig trapping his foot to the ground and already sprouting leaves.

"Please, tell me you at least remember my name," she begged.

"Y-your name?" He stuttered, his anxiety starting to coil around his twice as tight as the growing branch. When it reached his knee the it started on his other leg too.

"Please. I know you know it, Wirt. Don't play dumb with me," she said curtly.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm trying, I swear!" He called out, trying to wiggle his feet free and struggling against the binding wood.

"Ah!" The branches tightened at his struggle, reaching for his fingers and wrists when it successfully grabbed his waist.

"Wirt, please. You say my name, and I'll save you."

"C'mon! That's not fair, now I'm thinking under pressure!" He replied trying to pull the branches off his body.

"Please, I can't help you if you can't remember," she said calmly.

"I can't! I'm sorry!" He felt his body sinking in to the ground. Warm dirt gnawed at his pants and boots, squirming to touch his skin with their moist minerals.

"Wirt…I'm sorry," the bird whispered as he was engulfed with branches and heavy dirt.

"Ah!"

Wirt jolted up right on his bed, sweat dripping down his back and neck as he stared at his bedroom door in horror. His lungs pumped the room for air, desperately devouring it to calm his racing heart. It took him a moment to process his dream. Those branches were familiar. He recognized their embrace and their forte. And that bird. She showed up again. It was unusual for him to dream the same dream or even have something (or someone) pop up in one twice. He took two more deep breaths before checking his alarm clock and groaning. It was 4 am. Too late to try and sleep again, yet too early to be awake. He pulled his sweaty teeshirt over his head and wiped the moisture from his hair. His whole body was drenched.

"Well, it's not like I don't have time to take a shower," he grumbled tiredly.

He sighed and dragged himself off his bed, stumbling to his light switch and cringing at the bright light. It was Sunday, right? He couldn't remember, nor care at the moment because he was trying to power through his developing headache. Again, Wirt sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before shuffling out of his room and in to the dark hallway. The bathroom he shared with Greg was between their rooms, so it was convenient for the both of them. When he entered he flicked on the lights and locked the door. He nearly jumped at his reflection. His tired dark eyes and pale, yet flushed, face was enough to scare anyone who woke up. The teen leaned closer to his mirror and ran his fingers through his hair. Just as they brushed against the back of his head he felt something rougher that hair. The reflection knotted it's eyebrows as Wirt fished the mystery item from the back of his hair. When he pulled it out and held it up he instantly recognized it as a deadened brown leaf.


	3. Difficulties

 Wirt sat at the counter digging his spoon in to his corn puffs. His eyes proved him jaded, and his shoulders fell limp in his green sweater. Greg, who was chipper as ever, swung his feet under the counter and shoveled his Chocolate Cheerios spoonful after spoonful. The teen yawned and finished his late bite of cereal before drinking the last of the milk from the bowl. Most of Greg's cereal either ended up in his face or up his nose. Either way, he'd take them off and eat them after he finished. Wirt smiled as he watched his messy brother, dreading the monday set out in front of him. He was happy to have Greg as a distraction despite the fact that he had to leave sometime soon. Instead of worrying about his classes he focused on his sibling and sipped his orange juice.

"Wirt…are you gonna talk to that girl today?" Greg asked with a mouthful of half chewed Cheerios. Wirt blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought about that girl all weekend.

"Oh, uh yeah. If I see her," he replied and placed his bowl in the sink.

"Are you gonna be friends with her? You should bring her over so she can meet Parker," he suggested.

"I dunno, Greg. What if she doesn't want to be my friend?"

"Of course she'll like you. You're smart and she can copy your homework," Greg assured him. Wirt frowned.

"That's not a good reason to be friends with someone, but I guess your right."

"Of course I'm right, Parker said it was a great idea," he proclaimed. Wirt chuckled, amused with his younger brothers confidence.

"Okay then, I'll make sure to offer my notes in class," he smiled and grabbed his backpack from the counter.

"Oh, and offer her half your lunch. Girls like food a lot," Greg told him.

"Okay, I'll do so," Wirt promised as he patted his head and walked out the kitchen.

"Have a good day!" The boy called.

"You too!" Wirt responded as he walked out the door in to the cool autumn air.

He gathered the sleeves of his brown sweater in his palms before continuing his way to school, leaving a trail of clouds behind him. The walk to his high school wasn't a long one, but sometimes he wished it was. He found it pacifying to just walk with no interruptions. His favorite thing to watch was the trees. Sometimes the yes be bright green and before he knew in they've turned in to rich honey and caramel drips splattered on the dull asphalt. It wasn't long for the caramel to harden in to dark toffee which crunched beneath his converse with each step. He watched with a loud crack as the toffee shattered in to coffee grounds. Wirt smiled and took a breath of fresh air. It's been a while since he's smelled such clean air. The last he could remember was in some kind of woods…but which ones? The teen stopped in his steps as he found himself puzzled. When did he go in to a forest? His memory was nebulous, but he definitely recalled walking through a forest not too long ago…how strange he couldn't remember-

"Hey! Watch it!"

Wirt snapped out of his train of thought as he felt someone run in to him. He turned around and saw the same constellations he had seen on Saturday. The fiery stars speckled across her pale and disgruntled face as she glared at him and pulled an earbud out of her ear. A strand of ginger hair fell between her eyes and her leather jacket had been replaced with a robin egg blue hoodie.

"Uh, s-sorry. I didn't mean to get in your way," he stuttered as he studied her tired eyes. Their piercing blue color bored in to his face as she raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever, man. Just keep walking," she scoffed and stormed past him. He watched her walk and adjust her earbud in to place. She was definitely different. Maybe she didn't want friends…but he did promise David he'd try. He sighed and jogged up to her side.

"Hey, wait! Are you-" Wirt was interrupted as she groaned and pulled out both headphones.

"What?" She demanded, giving him a stern stare that would scare the ghost out of anyone.

"Uh-um, are you on your way to Wayer High School?" He asked.

"Do I look like a fucking middle schooler?" She snarked.

"N-no! I was just wondering if you'd like someone to walk with," he replied. The girl held up her headphones in front of him.

"What do these look like to you?" She asked.

"Uh…headphones?"

"Yes. These are headphones. Meaning I want to listen to music and not you," she said harshly. Wirt gaped at her, lost for words as she continued past him and rolled her eyes. Now he was a bit irritated. He was trying to be nice, and she was treating him like a parasite.

"Whatever," he mumbled and watched her walk away. He kicked a rock and continued walking as well once she was a safe distance away from him. Of course the one person who would definitely not have friends in school warded him off like the plague. If she does dye her hair her personality will be an even stronger repellent than her locks.

He glared at the messy bun five yards ahead of him as it disappeared in to the front door of the school. He wondered why he even bothered trying to be her friend after she shot him down the first time. All David said was to be kind to her, and that's what he tried to do if she had just let him. Now he wasn't too see if he would be kind. He wouldn't be mean or spread rumors, but he wouldn't say hi to her in the hallways. For some reason he was so steamed over his small encounter with that girl. Something about her…was familiar…

"Hey, Wirt," greeted a happy tone. Wirt looked up to see Sara smiling at him. Her dark, angelic skin summoned a smile from the grumpy boy.

"Sara! Hey!" He replied, a little too enthusiastically. Sara smiled wider.

"Are you going in the school?" She asked. "You've been glaring at the front doors for like five minutes."

"I-I have? I mean, yeah. There's a chip in the paint and it's really bothering me," he lied turning red. Sara quirked an eyebrow.

"So you've been glaring at it from ten feet away?" She questioned.

"Uh, yeah. That's…that's exactly what I've been doing," he said. Sara giggled and pulled her scarf looser around her neck.

"C'mon, you goofball. The bell is gonna ring soon."

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Wirt couldn't focus on the lesson. The writing on the bored might as well be German for all he cared. His mind was too preoccupied with that rude ginger. He was so busy mentally cursing her that all previous thoughts about his dreams drifted along like pebbles in a stream. His pencil swirled mindlessly across his page as he glared at the nonsense coming out of it. Why was he so mad in the first place anyways? So what she didn't want to be his friend. If that's what she's like all the time he wasn't so sure he wanted to be her friend anyway. He'll just tell David that he tried but she was just too much of a dirty rotten brat. She was already in three of his classes and the next class he had was symphonic band. He prayed to God she wasn't some musical prodigy with an interest in symphonies or anything like that. If she did he was ready to bash his clarinet over her head.

And what was with that brightly colored head of hers? If it wasn't for her crazy colored locks he wouldn't be so doggone angry right now. What was with her so casually throwing around the f-word? Sure, Wirt wasn't completely innocent when it came to swear words, but he only did it when he was mad and he never used the f-word. Not because his mother told him not too. He was just…uncomfortable with it. Swearing was like alcohol. Some drinks are manageable, and others are just too strong. It all depends on how tolerable your gut is. He wasn't bothered by other people using it, yet for some reason he was peeved at how rude she had said it. You don't just swear at someone you don't even know. That's just rude. The more he thought the harder he pressed on his paper. He looped his letters faster and angrier until the tip of his pencil snapped and ruined his perfect sentence.

"Shit!" He cursed, unaware of the thawing silence in the air that was frozen once the word slipped his mouth. The teen looked up to see dozens of heads (including the teachers) staring at him. Some gaped, and other struggled not to laugh. Mrs. Williams looked appalled at his sudden outburst, as if he was the last student she thought would've sworn. Wirt turned red and set down his pencil before sinking back in his chair.

"S-sorry," he stuttered before trying to disappear in to his green sweater. It took a while before Mrs. Williams snapped out of it and closed her jaw.

"It's fine, Wirt. Just don't say it again," she replied. He nodded and pulled at the collar of his shirt. As he avoided the eyes slowly turning away from him he couldn't help but notice the Orange blob of color trembling in the front row. She was laughing.


	4. calling names

The bird fluttered through the twilight sky while fog escaped the lips of the teetering teen. Wirt folded his hands in to his chest to warm them. If only he had his nice comfy sweater. It'd be nicer than this ridiculous cape...that he had no recollection of putting on. What did it matter, he should've assumed it was a dream anyways. These dreams only get more and more confusing to him. He'd get a headache if he woke up this time.  
Wirt sighed and decided to sit upon the dry part of the river bed. Five feet further and he would've been ankle deep in pure mud. Why was it so cold? He could barely feel his lips and the tip of his nose he assumed had gone red. The best he could do was cup his hands over his maw and warm himself with his breath. Alas, it only worked for a minute before returning to its fridged temperature.  
"What am I doing here?" He grumbled to himself, picking up a small twig and digging it in to the ground. The boy continued picking up sticks and jamming them in to the dry mud until he ran out of twigs around him. Again, he sighed when he noticed a blue bird sat in front of his wall of sticks.  
"You again?" He asked. The bird blinked in response. For some reason he felt ashamed. He felt as if he had let her down despite her being a bird he has no memory of meeting outside of these weird dreams. Her only request was for him to remember her name, and he couldn't. He felt like he made her sad, and he didn't want her to be sad.   
"Listen..." he started. "I'm sorry I can't remember your name. I don't want to upset you, but I seriously have no memory of you whatsoever." Just saying that made him feel like a complete jerk, yet the bird remained silent.  
"Please, say something so I know you're not mad at me," he begged. The bird only stared at him when he felt the familiar vine-like branch twist it's way around his foot.  
"Wait...wait, please. I don't want you to be mad at me. Just give me a hint or something? Something to jog my memory? Please, anything," he pleaded trying to pry the branch from his ankle. The bird looked away and puffed her chest for a second as if she easy sighing.  
"I-I'm sorry! I don't want you to be sad, just explain how I'm supposed to know you. Or tell me how we met. Please...just-". The branches wound their way up his body faster than the last time, their leaves already tickling his chin. "I'm trying to remember! I swear! Please just tell me how I know you! I can't remember!" He thrashed as the beaches tightened and once again pulled him under.

"Beatrice!"

Wirt gasped as he jerked his head from his desk, the whole class staring back at him as he panted. He felt sweat drip down in to his usual button up and sweater combo and down the side of his face. Wait, that wasn't sweat. That was drool. He quickly wiped the stream of silva from the side of his mouth and looked around nervously. The teacher, Mr. Clark, gave him a disapproval stare while everyone gaped at him. Everyone except for a certain red head who was hiding her face in her arms.  
"Mr. Sanders, does it look like an appropriate time to be taking naps?" Mr. Clark asked.  
"N-no sir," Wirt replied.  
"Then why have you just woken up from one?"  
"I-I'm sorry, sir. I must've dozed off." Wirt got redder by the minute.  
"Did you have a nightmare, Wart?" Mike Fill asked, his voice as deep as a well and his face as aesthetically pleasing as a potato salad. He was a tall boy with wide, muscular shoulders and long athletic legs. Every inch of him was covered in hair and he refused to wear anything besides his football jersey and jeans. Wirt had never liked Mike. Especially after he had nickname him "Wart" in the second grade. He opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off.  
"Leave him alone, you idiot," barked a snappy voice. Wirt looked up to the source to see the ginger glaring at the football player.  
"Who ask you, red? Butt out," he barked right back.  
"That's not my name, you dickwad," she hissed.  
"Whoa there, missy, there's no need for that kinda lang-"  
"Fuck off, ginger. Everyone knows you ain't got no soul so go shove that stick up your ass somewhere else," Mike continued despite Mr. Clark's protest.  
"Oh please, do you really think 'ginger' insults me? And so what if I don't have a soul, that won't stop me from beating your ass to hell," she retorted. Mike laughed a short, and brisk laugh in spite.  
"As if, you're a paper clip compared to me," he boasted.  
"So what, meathead? You wanna fight?" She asked.  
"No! There is no fighting in this schoo-"  
"Hell yeah, I wanna fight. I'm gonna kick your ass to China town," Mike grinned. He'd take any chance to hit a girl. Mr. Clark opened his mouth to speak again when the red head stood up and socked Mike Fill in the nose. Wirt's jaw dropped as he blinked at what he had just witnessed.  
"Fuck!" He roared, holding his hand over his nose and crimson blood dripped down his ugly face. "You little-" but he was punch again before he could finish his sentence. "Bitch!"  
"Stop it!" Mr. Clark demanded. The girl looked at the teacher and then back at Wirt before storming out of the classroom and leaving it pin drop silent.  
"Control your fucking girlfriend, Wirt!" Mike growled while trying to stop the blood from staining his jersey.  
"S-she's not my girlfriend," Wirt stuttered in reply.  
"Hey, you control your language. Get yourself to health office at once while I call the principal," Mr. Clark ordered Mike. He groaned and stood from his desk to walk out of the classroom, giving Wirt one last sneer before leaving.  
"And you, young man," Clark redirected his finger to Wirt, startling him and causing his face to flush. "No more napping in class!"

 

* * *

 

Kids rushed through the halls like seagulls flocking after a bread crumb. Once the bell had freed them, they were out of control. Wirt was still trying to process what had happened in his second period. He had witnessed it before his very eyes, but he couldn't help but think he'd gone crazy. He'd have to be completely bonkers of he really thought that new girl defended him despite her rudeness the other day. What Mike had said was believable, but what she did was unfathomable. Sara had talked to him about it, so he was certain he wasn't the only one who was crazy. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or a bad thing...but it was definitely a thing to consider. Before splitting their separate ways, Wirt smiled at Sara and she returned with a hug. He'd never let her see, but he blushed once the pressure of her arms settled around his waist.  
"I'll see you tomorrow," she smiles before hopping off to her bus.  
"Okay, bye!" He called as she waved from the door. The term smiled back at the dark skinned girl. Her lovely complex was comparable to cocoa, and her smile was as wide as she could stretch. He couldn't seem to wipe off his own grin either. That is, until he felt a swift punch in his gut.  
"Ow! What the-" he looked over to see the same familiar freckles and orange strands. She scowled down at him.  
"Why the fuck did you shout my name in the middle of class?" She demanded to know, her arms folded in to themselves. Wirt furrowed his brows in confusion.  
"What? What are you talking about?" He questioned. She rolled her icy blue eyes.  
"When you woke up from your stupid nap you screamed out 'Beatrice!' in front of the whole damn class. Explain yourself. It'd better not have been a fucking wet dream or else I'll kick your-"  
"Whoa whoa! Calm down, it wasn't anything like that!" Wirt interrupted while turning red.  
"Then what was it? And how did you learn my name? I don't recall giving it to you. Did you wait to hear for it during roll? If you did, you're a total creep," she accused.  
"I don't know your name, and I did not wait to hear it during roll. People who do that are...greatly disturbed," he replied. Her scowl deepened.  
"Then why did you shout my name?" She asked.  
"I dunno...wait, is your name Beatrice?" He asked. She nodded slowly with raised eyebrows as if he was the dumbest idiot she had ever spoken to. "Geez, I didn't know that. Heck, I did't even know I shouted that out loud. I can't remember what my dream was either..."  
"Whatever, don't fucking do it again or I'll rip your hair out," she threatened. Based off of what she did to Mike, Wirt took that threat very seriously.  
"I-I promise it'll never happened again," he stuttered.  
"Good, and don't even think about asking to walk with me again because the answer is no," she said sharply before turning her heel and storming off away from school.  
"O...okay," he stammered as he watched her walk away. "Beatrice..."

 


	5. Little brother, little brother

 Wirt laid on his bed with the lights out. He stared up at the ceiling as rain pelted on his window outside. When he felt close to dozing off he would blink five times in fear of dreaming about that bird again. It kinda creeped him out how he had shouted that girls name at it…Beatrice. Her angry face popped up in his brain again and a shiver ran down his spine. He had told his parents what had happened that day, yet found a way to neglect the fact he had screamed her name out at the top of his lungs.

The memory made him cringe and slap his hands to his face. He wanted to curl up and disappear forever. Why in the world did he say her name? Where did he even hear it? She definitely hadn't told him, so why was in in his mind? He was trying his best to get it out, but it sounds strangely familiar to him. Beatrice…Beatrice…Beatrice…Bea…trice… No matter how much he thought he couldn't remember where or how he knew that name. For some reason he couldn't shake the feeling like it mattered. Almost as if he had a connection with it…

The teen sighed and rubbed his eyes to wake himself again. It was probably around midnight, but he has no motivation to check the time. Instead, he sat up and stretched his tired limbs before running a hand through his hair. He groaned in spite of his own exhaustion and yawned before getting up and wondering out in to the bathroom again. The entire house was still and dark except for the street lights streaming through the foggy hallway window. He guessed it was sometime after ten since even his parents were locked up in their room without a word. That or he couldn't hear them over the pitter patter of the rain drops outside. Wirt yawned again as he closed the bathroom door and flicked on the lights. He winced at the brightness and then blinked to adjust to the harsh light. When he glanced in to the mirror he frowned and blinked at his jaded reflection. Déjà Vu hit him like a ton of bricks as he remembered the dream from before.

"Guh," he grunted and rubbed the sleep from his eyes when he heard a timid knock on the door. "Huh?"

"Wirt? Is that you?" Asked a hushed voice as Greg nudged the door open a crack. Wirt blinked and looked down at his little brother.

"Uh, y-yeah. What's up? Why are you up so late?" He questioned. Greg looked away at the floor and hugged the pillow he was holding tighter.

"I…I had a bad dream," he said shyly. A wave of pity and sympathy washed over the teen as he realized the situation he was in.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Greg nodded. "You wanna come in?" Again, he nodded before cautiously stepping on to the cool linoleum floor. Wirt picked up his brother and set him down on the counter.

"What kinda bad dream did you have?" He asked while leaning his elbows down on the counter as well.

"It was…scary," he whispered, as if he didn't want anyone to hear.

"What scared you about it?"

"I was lost…and scared. I was just walking through this forest and then it got cold. Then it started to snow and I couldn't go any further…" he told him. The word forest struck Wirt like a match.

"A forest?"

"Yeah, but the scariest part was when I called for you…you didn't say anything. I couldn't see anything through the snow, but I thought I saw someone ahead of me. I thought it was you…but I guess I was wrong." Greg sighed and clutched his pillow tighter. "I miss our bird," he murmured.

"Our bird?" Wirt repeated.

"Yeah…our blue bird who showed us the way. I lost her in the storm, but I miss her," he said and looked over to his brother.

"In your dream?" Wirt asked. Greg blinked and furrowed his brows.

"No, when we climbed over the garden wall," Greg responded.

"You mean Halloween night? We didn't go through a forest, or meet a bird. All we did was fall in to the lake," Wirt recalled. Greg frowned.

"You don't remember, do you, Wirt?"

"Remember what?"

"Never mind," he sighed. "You'll remember later. I only just remembered it last night."

"Wait, what are you talking about? Remember what? What happened?" Wirt asked, his pulse starting to strain against his veins. What his brother was talking about started to make him feel…nervous. Greg yawned.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. Thanks for talking with me, I feel a lot better," he said before hopping off the counter and wobbling his sleepy self back to his bedroom across the hall.

 

* * *

 

"She did what?" Sara asked as she walked next to Wirt.

"She just punched me in the stomach and started yelling at me. It was super weird," he repeated.

"Wow, are you okay? I heard she punched Mike Full so hard he got a bloody nose," she said as she opened the door for them.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't think she tried as hard as she did when she punched Mike. He was being a real jerk to her."

"We're you there when it happened?" She asked.

"Huh?"

"When she punched, Mike. Where you there?" She clarified.

"Oh, uh yeah…" he trailed off blushing slightly. He didn't really want to admit the reason she punched Mike was because he was teasing him for falling asleep in class.

"How'd it happen? This is the first I've heard of her doing something like this, so she must've been bothered or something."

"Um…yeah, h-he was bugging her about her hair," he said fiddling with his backpack straps. Sara tsked and rolled her eyes.

"Of course he did. Those football guys are all the same. People should just leave her alone about her hair. It's not like she could control it or anything, and I think it's really pretty. Besides, she actually really nice to talk to," she ranted.

"Y-you talk to her?" Wirt stuttered in surprise.

"Yeah. We have the same lunch and she sits all alone. I sometimes chat with her a little bit, but she seems like the kinda person who wants to be left alone yet doesn't wanna be rude, y'know?" Sara spoke. Wirt furrowed his eyebrows. Doesn't wanna be rude? That seems a little far fetched to him, but maybe he did something to upset her without really realizing it…

"Wirt?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess. I haven't really talked to her much…" Wirt bit his lip thoughtfully as he raked his mind for something he did or said that was terribly awful to her. He did bug her when she didn't want to, but it seemed like she was having a bad morning. She did defend him…so she can't be that bad, right?

"Oh, hey, about Saturday-"

"Yeah?"

Sara sighed.

"Could we reschedule? My parents are gonna be out of town this weekend, and I have to watch my little brother Ben," she told him.

"Oh…"

"I'm sorry, they just told me this morning so I had no idea. Next weekend maybe?" She proposed.

"Uh, okay. Yeah, sure. I-I understand," Wirt replied. He had no idea she had a little brother until now.

"Unless you don't mind me bringing him along. He is about Greg's age, so they might get along," she thought aloud to herself. Wirt perked up a the suggestion.

"That sounds like a great idea. Greg could show him his frog."

"Ben loves frogs! What a coincidence!" Sara grinned, her dark skin glowing and her eyes shining with joy. Wirt was mesmerized by her simple, yet stunning beauty. For a moment he lost his words and smiled back at her. Her wide chocolate eyes and gorgeous grin made him want to make her smile like that everyday. He wanted to get lost in her thick, fluffy hair and intertwine his fingers with hers while she smiled exactly like that…

"Why didn't I think of that earlier?-" she was soon interrupted by the bell going off and announcing first period. "I'll check with my parents if it's okay and call you tonight, okay?" She said to him. Wirt blinked as the vexing bell brought him back down to earth and nodded.

"Y-yeah, sounds good."

"Great!" Sara smiled wider and hugged him really quickly before heading down the hall to her first period.

"Have a good day!" She called and waved.

Wirt stood in the middle of the hall waving back at her and smiling like an idiot. Some kids bumped past him, but it didn't bother him. He was chipper as he walked and continued on to his class. The happiness bubbled up inside him felt like it would never go away. That was until he was stopped by a very tall, and angry, Mike Fill.


	6. Beat up

Chapter 6: Beat up

Wirt grunted as he was shoved to the cold hard pavement, his maroon sweater protecting his skin from being scrapped on the ground. As he struggled to get up his back pack was chucked at him as well, and pushed him back on to the ground. He coughed and flipped on his back so he could glare up at Mike and his buddies Rich and Cameron. They were the biggest guys on the football team…and they were all ready to beat the living crap out of him.

"Your girlfriend ain't here to save your ass this time, Wart," he sneered while cracking his knuckles. Each PPP made Wirt cringe.

"I-I already told you, s-she's not my girlfriend," he stuttered while he sat up and reached for his bag. Mike kicked it out of his reach and crouched down to his level.

"I don't really give a shit, Wart. She could be your fucking cousin and I wouldn't give a shit," he spat.

"S-she's not that either-"

"Shut up, I already said I don't care."

"Why do you even wanna beat me up? She's the one who punched you! I-I didn't do anythin-"

"I said shut it! It's your fault. If you hadn't taken a fucking nap in the middle of class she wouldn't have humiliated me in front of the whole fucking class," he hissed.

"How am I responsible for her actions? I can't control her any more than you can," Wirt argued. Mike groaned and clenched his fists.

"You gonna kick his ass, Mike?" Rick asked, his deep voice making Wirt even more nervous.

"Hell yeah I am," he replied.

"I'm gonna kick your smart ass across the fucking city!" He barked and grabbed the front of his shirt. Mike growled and pulled his fist back to prepare for a punch when he felt cool fingers clamp over his and hold him still.

"What the-" he glanced back only to be greeted with a sharp punch in the nose.

"Shit!" He let go of Wirt's sweater and held his nose which was already covered with a bandage from the previous day. Blood once again gushed through his fingers and he growled angrily up to his attacker. None other than the tall ginger glared down at him with her hand on her hip and her hair tied up in a messy bun as usual.

"You again! You fucking cunt-"

"Save it, asshat, and leave Wirt alone. It's me you gotta bone to pick," she sassed. Wirt blinked up at her and rubbed his eyes in attempt to possibly wake him up incase this was some insane dream. It wasn't.

"Why do you keep defending him? Do you love him or something?" Mike retorted as he stood up. She raised an eyebrow at him before bonking him on the forehead.

"You dumb ass, not everything between a man and a woman is for the sake of romance. Grow up, I defend him because he's my friend," she said sharply. Friend? Wirt wished he had a replay button to make sure he heard her correctly. She hadn't been so friendly when she punched him in the stomach and said the f-word to him.

"Yeah right, you don't even talk to him," Mike laughed.

"I'm sure as hell a lot nicer to him than you, dick wad," she snarked. Mike growled and straightened his posture.

"You're seriously getting on my nerves," he said with clenched teeth.

"And you're seriously not intimidating. Are we gonna fight or nah? We're already half an hour late for first period and I don't have all day."

That was the last straw for Mike. He raised his fist yet again and aimed it for her face, but before he could come within an inch of her face she ducked. The tall brute was launched forward by his own force, stumbling over his feet and desperately trying to regain his balance. She then decided to trip him and sent him tumbling to the ground face first. He let out a childish scream and clutched his face and stomach.

"Fucking bitch!" He howled in agony. He attempted to stand up, but merely rolled over on his side as he started to sob and curl in to the fetal position. The ginger chuckled at the over sized infant and looked over to Wirt who was still sitting on the ground holding his bag. She crouched down to his level and stared at him sternly. Her eyes studied him for a good minute before she flicked his forehead.

"Hey! What was that for?" He asked furrowing his brows. It didn't hurt, but it did irritate him.

"For not standing up for yourself," she replied and stood up. She offered her hand to help him which he accepted and dusted the gravel from his pants.

"What do you mean? I stood up for myself," he argued, much like a child.

"You were too calm, he didn't take you seriously. You might be used to talking to teachers and adults because you're a total introvert, but idiots like them don't get that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wirt questioned.

"It means, you gotta shout when someone's trying to intimidate you. You weren't scared. It probably takes a lot to scare you, but being level headed won't make teenagers magically decide not to beat you to a pulp," she explained.

"Yelling at them is just gonna make them beat me up quicker."

"The sooner the better. Besides, it's better to go out putting up a fight," she said crossing her arms.

Wirt couldn't wrap his head around that concept as if it was made of bubblegum. He was obviously confused and irritated at the same time. In front of him was a weirdo karate chick telling him to shout at idiots so he could get beat up quicker…how did that make sense? He looked her up and down to check if her crazy was evident, but only found an olive cardigan and dark blue jeans. Her hair was once again tied up in to a bun as if she barely had a minute to do it and the same blue scalloped ribbon laced through her fiery locks.

"That sounds really crazy," he said bluntly.

"Try to be rational with a psycho also sounds really crazy, yet what were you just doing?" She challenged. Wirt sighed and groaned, pulling his hand down his face in attempts to wipe away his fatigue.

"Listen…I don't wanna be your enemy or 'frenemy' whatever that is. I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot, and I don't wanna be that way," he told her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have a crush on me?" She asked. Wirt's jaw dropped. Did she seriously just ask that?

"W-what? N-no way! All you've done is be rude to me and beat up football players, what are you thinking?" She shrugged. "Anyways, could we at least be neutral?" He asked. She was silent for a few minutes, her eyes lost somewhere in her thoughts as he waited.

"Fine," she said finally and held out her hand. "I'm Beatrice."

"Wirt," he replied and shook her hand.

"Good, now that we've settled that we should be getting to class. First period is nearly over," she spoke and checked her watch. It had a golden gleam to it and what looked like the beak of a great bird as the hands.

"Really? Oh sugar snaps! My mom'll be pissed if I miss a class."

"Then let's go, dummy!"

 

* * *

 

Wirt rubbed his writs in his seat while the teacher went off about poems or something like that. The red where Beatrice grabbed him popped out against his stark white skin. He mentally cursed her with the most terrible words he could think of followed by a mental apology from the guilt of cussing at a girl (even if it was mentally). Her bright red hair was still ridiculously noticeable from the back of the classroom. It kept distracting him until he completely lost track of what the teacher was saying and just stared at her birds nest of hair. She still had that blue scalloped ribbon knotted in it. It made her hair look even more messy and curly from how hastily it appeared to be tied. From what he knew about her now he wouldn't be surprised if she rushed this morning with out an ounce of thought for how she looked.

His staring starting to turn in to glaring. She was so brash and curt with him earlier. All that talk about standing up for himself and trying to negotiate with psychos confused him. It was almost as if she was trying to insult him, yet take care of him at the same time. He didn't need her to do either of those things, nor did he need her to hate him. Friends would be an okay label for them at the moment, but he wasn't sure if she was really open to that. Soon, her red locks were replaced with her cold eyes as he realized she was looking back at him. No, the whole class was looking back at him. He looked up to the teacher and realized he had been asked a question.

"I'm sorry, what?" He spoke. Mr. Gravers sighed.

"I said: Would you please spend less time staring at the backs of people's heads and pay attention," he repeated.

Wirt turned red in embarrassment as chuckles were sprinkled through out the class room. He nodded, too mortified to speak as Mr. Gravers continued his lesson. He looked up one more time, expecting to see the back of Beatrice's hair only to find her unimpressed eyes as she mouthed one word to him.

"Dumbass"


	7. Partners

"Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening, by Robert Frost," Mr. Gravers spoke as he flipped open a poetry book."A timeless poetry classic that everyone should've heard of at least once." Wirt's ears perked up at the word poetry and he started paying attention again. Stopping by the woods…he was certain he had heard of it before.

"For those of you how've never heard of it before, I shall read it to you right now," he settled in the middle of his book before adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

"Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of the easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

He closed the book as soon as he finished and Wirt smiled slightly as he remembered the words he had spoken. The rest of the class was silent. Mostly because the one person who wouldn't stop talking was passed out and drooling on his desk. He rolled his eyes at such blatant disrespect for such marvelous words before returning his attention to Mr. Gravers.

"Each of you will receive a copy of this poem and read it with a partner," he said holding up a stack of papers. "And before anyone asks; no, I will not allow you to pick your own partner," he announced before handing the stack to his TA. The entire class groaned, even Wirt. He had Brian in this class, and he was a poetic genius.

"Stop complaining," he snapped and picked up his clipboard. Wirt sighed as the papers were passed back to him. He picked out one and handed the rest back as he wondered why he would assign partners for a short reading.

"Sucks we can't be partners this time," Brian whispered behind Wirt. He turned back and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and it's stupid we can't for reading," he added.

"Okay, I will announce your partners. I did try to match you up with someone you are friends with, but I did keep in mind your work ethics," Mr. Gravers said while looking down at the names in front of him. He called out the names in pairs, starting with a girl named Alison and a boy named Jack. He continued to announce the pairs and called "Wirt and Brian" about halfway through. Wirt grinned and turned back to high five Brian before turning back to the teacher. Once he finished everyone got up to sit near their assigned partner and waited for his next order which was to start reading.

"This is gonna be so fun, I'm glad I didn't get stuck with a goddamn loser," Brian grinned as his bright blue eyes scanned over the text.

"I was afraid I'd get paired with someone I didn't know. Think about how awkward that would be, just reading a poem with a stranger," Wirt said. Brian snorted.

"Yeah, I was just scared I'd get paired with that new girl," he said jerking his head to his left. Wirt looked over and his eyes instantly caught on the giant mass of red curls two rows away.

"Beatrice?" He asked.

"Ugh, even her name is weird," Brian cringed.

"Yeah, she doesn't seem too friendly. I heard she punched Mike Fill the other day. He said she almost broke his nose and was trying to defend some nerd."

"Oh…" Wirt bit his lower lip, wondering if he should tell him the full story.

"Well-"

"Oh shit, we should be reading," Brian interrupted, picking up the sheet of paper and holding it up.

"Y-yeah, we should," Wirt stuttered and picked up his own page.

"Okay…" Brian cleared his throat.

"Whose woods these are I think I kn-"

"Okay, class, that should've been enough time for you to read over the whole thing at least once," Mr. Graver a said before Brian could even finish the first line.

"Do I have any volunteers to read it to the class? Someone with a nice gentle, yet firm voice."

"You heard him," Brian nudged Wirt, "gentle and firm, right?" He teased. The teen rolled his eyes and shook his head while the blond chuckled.

"If someone doesn't volunteer I'm going to have to pick someone," he said after a few moments of silence had past. He folded his hands behind his back and paced across the front of the class room, his cold eyes scanning everyone's faces and searching for someone who dared not look back. He stopped in front of the second row, two rows to Wirt and Brian's left, and stared at the only person who didn't look back. He waited for her to look up, but her eyes remained on the paper she was reading over and over again. Her partner nudged her and her brilliant blue eyes jumped up from the page, to her partner, to Mr. Gravers.

"Beatrice Malckery, right?" He said. She slowly nodded her head, her eyes wide and alert like a bird. "Do you like the poem?"

"Yes," she spoke softly, the timidness in those three letters was enough to send shivers up Wirt's spine.

"Do you mind reading it to the class?" He asked. She hesitated. Every single pair of eyes in the class room were burning in to her. A curly strand of hair fell over her face as she looked down at the page and slowly stood up from her seat. She quietly cleared her throat and fingered the edge of her page nervously.

"Whose woods these are…I think I know. His house is in the village though; he will not see me stopping here, to watch his woods fill up with snow." She spoke softly.

This was possibly the most gentle Wirt had heard her voice. Every verbal interaction between the two of them was tense and sharp, but this…was like the gentle whispers of waves desperately grabbing the sand to reach the shore. Again, she cleared her throat. Her face was starting to heat up, and pink bloomed on the tops of her cheeks.

"My little horse must think it queer-" before she could say the next word a handful of kids giggled, making her turned red as she gripped the paper. Mr. Graver shushed the immature students and turned his attention back to Beatrice.

"Continue," he urged. She nodded and took a deep breath.

"My little horse must think it…queer…to stop without a farmhouse near, between the woods and frozen lake the darkest evening of the year…" as she read Wirt realized he was enjoying her reading. No…not her reading. He enjoyed her voice, as weird as that sounds. The way it calmly brushed his ears and tickled his spine completely captured his attention. He could care less about what was going on around him. The room could be on fire and he wouldn't give a damn. All that mattered was the poem. He also couldn't help but notice as she stood there reading that she looked…sorta beautiful.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep…and miles to go before I sleep."

Once she finished, the whole classroom was silent. She set down her paper and realized everyone was staring at her still. The redness on her face deepened and she promptly sat down in the desk she was occupying. Wirt kinda felt bad for her. She was obviously uncomfortable with the attention.

"Thank you, Beatrice. Now, everyone please return to your assigned seats," Mr. Gravers said as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. Wirt was still unconsciously staring at Beatrice when he heard Brian snort behind him and tore his gaze to his friend.

"God, what a freak," he chuckled. Wirt gave him a disapproving glare until he stopped laughing.

"What?"

"What did she ever do to you?" He asked.

"Huh?"

"You're being really rude right now, and you don't even know her. You should chill and try to get to know her before you go around calling her a freak," he snapped. Brian blinked and Wirt then finally realized what he had said was out loud.

"Dude, do you like her?" He questioned. Wirt rolled his eyes.

"No, you know I like Sara. It's just-" he sighed.

"It's just what?"

"That nerd Mike was picking on was me, and she stood up for me." He confessed.

"Oh," Brian said. "So your just paying her back."

"Well, ye-"

"Wirt! Brian! Now is not the time for chit chat," Mr. Gravers nearly shouted. Wirt jumped in his seat and faced the front.

"S-sorry," he stuttered just as the bell rung.

"What? You're not excused in another ten minutes," Gravers said. "It's late start schedule," someone told him from the middle of the class.

"Oh, I see. Well, keep in mind the partner I paired with you because next time I'll be announcing your project."

"A project?" Brian asked. Wirt nodded as he packed up his stuff.

"I wonder what's it about." He shrugged.

"Probably something about the poem."


End file.
